Amy Dalton: Student and Private Investigator
by KitKat517
Summary: Summary: There are many words to describe the fourth year know as Amy Dalton. Curious, intelligent, energetic, overly dramatic, and stubborn are just a few of them. When you combine that with a lack of common sense, a big imagination, and a tendency to
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Playing Detective**

**Summary:** For every year she has been at Hogwarts, Amy has found a project to occupy her free time. This year, that project is waiting for her at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

**Author's Note:** This is my first fan fiction on this site, so bear with me. I am an excellent babbler; however, I won't take up any more of your time. Read away!

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To Whom It May Concern:

Right now, I am hiding in a closet while a party goes on in the Ravenclaw common room a few yards away. It's our annual Back to School Bash. We have one every year on the first Saturday of the school year (the only day it is socially acceptable not to study and do homework). The parties are always fun. All the sixth and seventh years share the food they bring from home, since getting it from the kitchens would be against the rules, and we listen to music from the Wizarding Wireless Network. But, that's a different story. The one I'm going to tell is of how exactly I ended up sitting in a closet, trying not to get my robes to dirty, and waiting for something to happen. If everything goes as planned, something should happen, eventually. Writing is a good way to pass the time, and I thought I should write it all down, in case something happens to me. Bethany would say I'm being silly, but you never know. Right?

So, when I walk on too platform nine and three quarters, the first person I see is Mackenzie Whitecastle, the queen bee of Ravenclaw. She is a sixth year and everybody wants to be her friend. Everyone except for Eric, Bethany, and I, that is. She is the most popular girl in our house, and, as such, spends most of her time preening in front of the mirror in the girls bathroom, sucking up to any nearby adults, flirting with her boyfriend, and speaking to those outside of her clique in a condescending tone. That's why I am so surprised to see her standing in the shadows talking to Francesca Villalobos, the meanest Slytherin of the bunch. As a Muggle-born , I have the advantage of television and one of the many things television has taught me is this: when people are trying to be stealthy, you don't want them to know that you're privy to their suspicious activity, so I quickly look, and walk, the other way. I probably wouldn't have seen them at all if I had gotten to the platform an hour early, as I had wanted to do. I always arrive early for everything, well, at least when my older brother doesn't interfere. Chad, fortunately, is not magical and, therefore, does not attend Hogwarts. This time, he stole my wand. Since one can't do magic without a wand, I had to spend half an hour chasing him around the house, trying to get it back.

_"Chad Taylor Dalton, you better give me my wand back right this minute!" I yelled, doing my very best impression of my mother. _

"_Amy Elizabeth Dalton," he mimicked, "make me!" _

"_Chad, I cannot go to Hogwarts without my wand!" _

"_Oh, poor baby can't go to school without her precious stick." _

"_It's not a stick, it's a wand. Please give it back." I had decided to try whining instead. _

"_No, I don't think I will." It didn't work. _

"_What do you two think you're doing? Amy it is time to go!" Mother had intervened. _

"_Mom, he won't give me my wand back." _

"_Here, take it. I don't want it anyway." He threw the wand at me and I almost dropped it. With a snort of laughter, Chad left the room._

It makes me mad just thinking about! I quickly board the train, to get away from Mackenzie and Francesca (I think it's best to avoid them whenever possible) and put my trunk in my usual compartment. My plan is to hide out there until I con discuss the incident (if you can call it that) with Eric Applebee and Bethany Jones, my two best friends. My plan fails. I blame Eric.

When I get to the compartment, I see that Eric is already there. "Where have you been?" he asks. It is a valid question since I'm usually there way before Bethany and him.

"Chad," I reply concisely.

"Oh, him again."

"It's always him."

This is where the oh so observant Eric notices that I am out of breath and says -- "Are you okay? You seem a little out of breath."

"Do I really?" I say sarcastically. "I had no idea." Then, functioning under the delusion that he might have noticed too, I decide to let that go and say – "Guess what I just saw!"

"I have no idea, Amy, but you obviously want to tell me so get on with it." Really! A simple 'I don't know' would have been good enough for me.

"Fine," I snap. Then, with a triumphant smile, "I saw Mackenzie Whitecastle talking to Francesca Villalobos in the shadows about five minutes ago." He doesn't seem impressed.

"They aren't there now." I glance out the window to see that Eric is right, Francesca and Mackenzie have moved to opposite ends of the platform, and they are talking to their respective friends as the platform begins to fill with people.

"Well, they were five minutes ago." He looks at me skeptically.

"And why would Mackenzie Whitecastle be talking to Francesca Villalobos?" he asks. It is another perfectly valid question. I tell him so. He looks at me for a second and then goes back to the book he has been reading.

"Well, don't you have some idea?" What? Supposedly, Eric has a good imagination. According to Professor Ashford's evaluations, he has an overactive imagination. He might have some idea, even if it is impossible, unlikely, or doesn't make sense.

"I don't know, Amy. That's why I asked you."

"Well, neither do I. At least not yet," I reply thoughtfully.

"Oh no . . .," Eric mutters, but I ignore him.

"I am, however, going to find out," I declare. I can't very well just sit there after that. A statement like that requires action, so I stand and, with a look of determination, stride out of the compartment.

"What have I done," I hear Eric say under his breath as I left, but I ignore him. I have work to do.

I get off of the train, nonchalantly (I hope) make my way to where Francesca and Mackenzie had been standing before, and begin my search. Before I begin, I look around to make sure no one is watching me. I don't want to make the same mistake Mackenzie and Francesca did by getting caught. I'm safe. The only person within three feet is Lydia Potter. I've always thought she's a little odd. Maybe it has something to do with being the famous Harry Potter's daughter. Fortunately, she is just passing by. I am determined to find clues, you know, like the detective from those muggle books. I don't remember the name, but you know who I'm talking about. Then again, if you're a witch or wizard, you probably have no idea.

When Bethany arrives, I am peering through a crack in the wooden platform at an old chocolate frog card (I can't tell which one), three spiders (which are somewhat creepy), a piece of string (it is blue), and a lot of dirt, dust, and cobwebs. I am so focused on my detecting, I don't notice she is standing behind me until she pokes me in the shoulder and I jump.

"What in the name of Lawrence Taylor are you doing?" she asks me. She is using her "I don't really want to know but have to ask because you are my best friend and I have to protect you from yourself" voice. I am not worried. I know that voice well. It is the one she uses the most. Bethany is a pure-blood, but, as you can see from the Lawrence Taylor reference, I have taught her well. For any witches or wizards who might be reading this, Lawrence Taylor is a very cute muggle actor. I think I might be in love with him, but I digress.

"Don't you take Lawrence Taylor's name in vain like that," I scold. "And to answer your rather rude question, I am looking for clues."

"Looking for clues," she repeats.

"Yes," I reply matter-of-factly as I stand up and brush myself off. I have come to the conclusion that the items under the platform are of no consequence. "I haven't found anything yet, but there has to be proof somewhere."

"Proof," she repeats.

"Yes, proof," I tell her, feeling slightly exasperated, "and will you please stop that."

"Oh, sorry," she agrees and I am about to thank her when she interrupts with a sigh.

"What are you looking for proof of?" She is using that same tone. She steps back, looks at me apprehensively, and awaits my answer.

"Proof of," I begin, with a suspenseful pause, or at least I think it is suspenseful. Bethany obviously doesn't agree because she mutters the words " i _get on with it_ /i " under her breath. I ignore her. "Mackenzie Whitecastle's criminal activity," I finish dramatically, as if Bethany hasn't spoken. "Oh, and Francesca Villalobos is involved, too."

"Criminal activity," she repeats.

"Yes, and I thought you said you would stop repeating everything I say."

"Sorry. Now, what do you mean by criminal activity?"

"Well, I got here early this morning, as usual, and Mackenzie Whitecastle was already here. She was standing in the shadows, about here in fact, talking to Francesca Villalobos. So, now I am searching for clues."

"How do you know there was, um, criminal activity? Did you ask her? She could have a perfectly good reason," Bethany, always the logical one, points out.

"They were standing in the shadows, Bethany. Weren't you listening? Don't you watch TV? People only hold conversations in the shadows when there is criminal activity involved. I would expect this from Eric, but from you Bethany?"

"Speaking of Eric, does he know about this? Where is he anyway? And no, I don't watch TV."

"He is on the train, of course he knows, and you should watch TV. Actually, this is all his idea."

"I have a hard time believing that one."

"Fine. If you don't believe me go ask him." I order as I move to inspect the wall in case some evidence could be found there.

"I think I will," she replies and before I can say "good" and tell her to get TV for TV is a wondrous and beautiful thing, she grabs my arm and drags me back onto the train.

She stomps onto the train and drags me down the hall to our compartment. Eric is still inside reading his book. "Eric, Amy here seems to think that there was some criminal activity out on the platform involving Mackenzie Whitecastle and Francesca Villalobos. What do you have to say about that?"

"It's true," I insist. "I know what I saw!"

"Whatever you say, Amy," Bethany replies.

"I knew you would believe me," I declare happily while Bethany gives Eric a "lets just humor her" look. "Bethany, you are my only true friend. You stand by me while my other friends say I'm insane."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm sure you're insane," she answers cheekily. I glare at her and turn to Eric.

"Well?"

"Alright, alright," he gives in. "What do we have to do?"

"Well, actually, I don't have a plan yet," I reply as I silently congratulate myself. "But I was thinking we could . . ." As we plan, the train begins to move taking us not only to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but also to fun, adventure, and excitement.

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**Author's Note:** So, there it is, chapter 1. What do you think? Should I keep going or is it so horrible I should stop now and never write another word? Whatever you think, thanks for reading!

KitKat


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Search **

**Summary: **Amy is happily palnning and scheming. When doing so, it is always helpful to make a list and to make a list Amy has to find the right book.

Authors Note: Here it is, Chapter 2! It includes a list of things that must be searched for, a conversation about all of Amy's previous exploits, and a line from an Audrey Hepburn movie.

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I am looking forward to the first Hogsmeade visit more than usual, if that is possible. I will be able to buy the last of the supplies for my plan. I have spent all of transfiguration fine-tuning it. In fact, I am so focused on my planning; I do not realize Professor Ashford is asking me a question until Bethany practically stabs me in the shoulder with her quill. I look up to see the professor standing over my desk with a disgruntled expression. "Oh, were you talking to me?" 

"Yes, I was talking to you. What other Miss Dalton did you think I was speaking to?"

"Um . . . I don't know. Could you repeat the question?"

"I have repeated the question several times already, Miss Dalton. Do you mean to tell me that you haven't been listening?"

"Of course not, sorry," I say and wait for her to move on.

"Well, do you have an answer?"

"Oh, you still want me to answer the question." I still don't know what the question actually is, so I decide it would be best to make something up. "Er . . . twenty-three? No, yellow!" Everyone laughs. I, for one, don't see what is so funny about my predicament.

"I'm afraid that's incorrect," she sighs. "We are studying Animagi. What do the number twenty-three and the color yellow have to do with that?"

"Um . . . you could turn into a yellow animal, like a canary or something, but twenty-three doesn't have anything to do with Animagi. That's why I changed my answer to yellow," I reply hopefully.

"Please see me after class, Ms. Dalton," Professor Ashford requests wearily.

"Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor," I say contritely.

"Just pay attention," she orders.

"Yes, Professor," I reply just as a good student should. Then, I go back to working on my plan since, according to my theory, Professor Ashford hates me. Maybe if she had a husband, she would be nicer. That can be my next project. I'll have to discuss it with Bethany.

The plan is almost complete. All I need is a specific book that will give me some specific information that would certainly help me with a not so specific part of my wonderful plan. There is only one person who could help with this book-finding endeavor, so I immediately begin looking for her.

"Bethany," I say sweetly as I plop down next to her on the couch. "Do you remember that book Eric read during our first year?"

Bethany, since she is a good friend and all of that, puts down the essay she is writing to give me her full attention. "Amy, Eric read a lot of books during our first year. He reads a lot of books every day."

"I know, I know, but those other books don't matter. I need the muggle book with the spies in it."

"The book with the spies in it?"

"Yes, the book with the spies in it. What was it called?" I demand impatiently.

"That really doesn't make this any easier. You're the one who knows about muggle things."

"Oh, Bethany, you have to help me," I plead pathetically.

"Eric's the one who read the book. Why don't you just ask him?"

"Because Eric is busy reading some other book."

"I was busy writing an essay and you didn't seem to mind bothering me."

"Well, you were closer. Please Bethany!" I am practically groveling at this point.

"Oh, fine. But Eric has to help, too," she says wearily.

"Oh good. Let's go find Eric!" I grab her arm and drag her out of the common room to the one place Eric was sure to be: the library.

I am right. Eric is in the library and, as usual, reading a book. We silently sit in the chairs on either side of him. "Hello, Eric. How is my dearest and most wonderful friend?" I ask.

"She is just fine," answers Bethany. "Now, I'll get to the point. Eric, Amy needs a book."

"What kind of book does she need?" He responds as if I weren't sitting next to him.

"She needs the muggle book you read during our first year. The one with spies in it." Eric wordlessly stands, strides from the library, enters the Ravenclaw common room, and heads up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Bethany walks next to him and I follow behind, glaring at them the entire way. Eric digs through his trunk. I try to see into the trunk, hoping he will pull out the book. He does not disappoint me.

"Here," he says lazily thrusting a stack of seven books into my arms. "Those are the ones about spies."

"Thank you," I say pithily as I leave the room and head up to my dormitory. I have a lot of reading to do.

I dump the books on my bed and survey their titles. "All I have to do is find the right one," I tell myself as begin to scan the synopsis on the back cover of each book. Finally, I find the one I am looking for. I turn it over and look at the title. _How to Be a Spy_ by John Smith. Then, I open the book and begin to read.

About half an hour later, I walk back down the stairs and come to stand in front of Eric and Bethany who are playing Wizard Chess. I clear my throat. They ignore me. I clear my throat a little more loudly. They continue to ignore me. I try the clear my throat thing again. It does not work, again. I clear my throat one last time and turn it into a violent, but fake sounding, coughing fit. They, being my best friends and worried about my welfare (at least I think they care), finally look up from their game. "Amy! When did you get here?" Bethany asks.

"Oh, just a minute ago," I reply.

"Do yo—" begins Eric, but I cut him off.

"I need you to help me find all of the items on this list so we—"

"Hey, I was talking!" Eric says, indignantly.

I am prepared to ignore him, but Bethany says. "What items are on the list?"

"It is a list of thing that are both useful and important to all spies," I respond. "Now, as Miss Dalton was saying before she was so rudely interrupted, I need you to help me find all of the items on this list so we can prepare for my secret operation. Here is the list." I slam the list down on the chessboard, knocking all of the pieces over.

The List of Supplies That Are Needed to Execute a Secret Operation Correctly

Acknowledgments: John Smith, if you had not written

_How to Be a Spy_, this list never could have been written

1. black turtlenecks

2. ski caps

3. flashlights knowledge of how to light your wand

1. a magnifying glass

4. plastic bags

5. gloves

6. darkly colored pants

7. anything and everything else that might help with the project

"Only you would have a list with an extremely long title and acknowledgments," says Eric.

I pretend that he hasn't spoken and say, "Well, will you help me find them all?"

"You do realize that this plan will fail just like the others," replies Bethany.

"The others?" I ask innocently.

"Let's see, there was Operation Great Escape," says Eric.

"Oh, I remember that one!" Bethany exclaims. "She tried to free all of the animals Professor** Grubbly-Plank **had captured for our Care of Magical Creatures class. Do you remember Operation History of Magic is Really, Really Boring and That Needs to Change?"

"Yes, that was the one when she tried to get rid of Professor Binns after a particularly boring History of Magic lesson."

"Hey! That one worked!" I interject. Both ignore my interjection.

"The replacement was worse than Binns!" Bethany commented.

"I hadn't thought that was possible. Then she threw him a birthday party to get him to come back instead of a Deathday party. Do you think he forgave her for that one?"

I attempted to defend myself, very well I might add, with "How was I supposed to know? I'm muggle-born for goodness sakes!" However, that did not work either.

"Oh and there was the petition to bring football to Hogwarts," Eric continued.

"That was in second year. She couldn't get any signatures because most of the school doesn't know what football is."

"She tried to convince McGonagall that she should let Amy cut her hair."

"She started a party in the Charms room when Professor Flitwick was late."

"I'd forgotten about that one. It would have been cool if Flitwick hadn't come in about two minutes later. Oh, she tried to say that spell wrong so that a buffalo would fall on her."

"I had never seen a buffalo!" I defend. They, again, ignore me. These people are supposed to be my best friends.

"Oh, remember when she tried to check out every book in the library?" Actually, I had forgotten about that one. Madam Pince refused to believe that I had more than thirty-two essays and said even if I did, I should be able to write them just fine in the library without checking out each of the three hundred (it was just a start) books that I insisted I had to use.

"That one was Classic Amy," Eric replies. "Madam Pince still chases her out of the library. She has to sneak in."

"Well," I say loudly, finally getting their attention. "This plan will work." They look at me skeptically. "And by the way, you two have quite the imaginations for I have no knowledge of the incidents you speak," I declare, hoping that speaking in my "I-am-a-sophisticated-young-woman-and-perfectly-sane-thank-you-very-much" voice and mixing words having more than one syllable with lots of prepositions will convince them. As usual, my plan fails. I decide to resort to begging. "Please help me! I'll love you forever! Pretty please with sugar on top and a cherry! You can have a strawberry, Eric since you don't like cherries."

"Fine," sighs Eric. "As long as I get a strawberry instead.

"Let me see the list again," says Bethany. I pass it to her with a smile.

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Authors Note: I hope you liked it! Can anyone find the Audrey Hepburn quote? It is from_ Breakfast at Tiffany's_. 


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